Stars
by LadyZelthePen
Summary: Sometimes he dreams about fire and death when his thoughts should be peaceful, and he wishes his compass was not shaded so gray. Their sense of justice is twisted, and he can't begin to rationalize their ideas into the easily identifiable lines of black and white, good and evil.


A/N: I've started watching Justice League, and (go figure!) I instantly latched onto the character of J'onn J'onnz, also known as Martian Manhunter. I like to think of the Justice League having clearly defined morals stating good and evil, and J'onn is somehow stuck in the middle between the two. He did intend to save his fellow Martians from the Imperium, only to doom them in the end. So, those thoughts in mind, this was born.

There is no slash; just casual friendship here.

* * *

Sometimes, he dreams about fire and death when his thoughts should be peaceful.

Nights are always the hardest; the images of his glorious city on Mars being reduced to rubble press heavily on his mind in the blackest hour of the graveyard hours. He tries to lock the horrific images away, but they slither out of their prison when he least expects it and torment him for days on end.

The others do not know, or if they do they do not speak of it. He is glad for their silence; he doesn't think he could begin to put those thoughts into mere human words, or if they could even begin to understand the complexity of his thoughts when his dreams are too much for him to sleep any longer. Its nights like these when he leaves his room behind and takes up a vigil in the uppermost level of the Watchtower with only the stars for company.

He tries to understand his friends' convictions, but they are of Earth and he is not. Even those who are not, Hawkgirl and Superman, have lived so long among the humans they think like them. They have taken great pleasure in defending Earth from any number of beings who would threaten the planet, as they rightfully should. He feels drawn to their idea of justice, but there are times he cannot forget the destruction they leave behind in justice's name. His friends think clearly in the lines of black and white, good and evil, and he is glad their moral compasses are set so firmly.

He wishes his compass was not shaded so gray.

The hours between sunset and sunrise stretch out before him like an eternity, even though with his number of years it should only be a blink of an eye. He is constantly manning the station, even when some of the others are on the deck and perfectly capable of handling it alone. They take shifts as they should; no one does any more than another, except for J'onn.

The work keeps him grounded, focused on something other than the cacophony of thoughts constantly trying to drown him. Instead of thinking of fire and death, he imagines the complex system of wiring providing life to the Watchtower and those aboard who depend on it. But, there are some nights his dreams are too much and the distraction of an extra shift on deck cannot even shake the dark thoughts clambering for a hold on his mind.

Instead of heading for the main deck, J'onn takes an indirect route to a private platform with a large window. The blackness of space greets him, and it seems the stars twinkle a little more in greeting. He takes a seat in front of the window and watches.

His daughter loved the stars. Every evening following their simple meal, she would excuse herself to the spacious balcony and view them through a strong telescope, constantly scribbling notes in one of her books. J'onn and H'nah would watch her from inside, smiling at each other over their daughter's enthusiasm. Thanks to her, he knew all of the constellations and the exact distances between each of them. Here on Earth, they were backward, but he enjoyed picking them out and naming them in the game he and T'resa had done so long ago.

It was her birthday when the Imperium arrived. H'nah had suggested purchasing a stronger telescope for the girl whose head was always in the clouds, and J'onn had quickly suggested something better. The weeks he had toiled over the contraption sped by, and on the night of T'resa's birthing, he had suggested they look at the stars together. He had never seen her look so pleased, and two hours had passed by before H'nah had announced the time.

T'resa had quickly retired, looking forward to rising early to view the skies before the sun took control with its brightness. J'onn had not left the balcony, still staring up at the pinpricks of light as they waved hello, and H'nah had joined him moments later. He'd held her close, neither of them speaking, with one arm around her waist and the other clasping her hand resting on his chest.

If he could have known things would change so drastically in the span of a few hours, maybe he could have acted faster, done something to prevent the great destruction the Imperium was ready to inflict on Mars. J'onn still replays that moment when the great projectile smashed into the house directly across from them, reducing it to dust particles. He and H'nah had run inside, and H'nah had quickly roused T'resa. J'onn had run outside while his family made themselves safe in the lowest level of their house. More projectiles rained down over the city, and he watched the black sky turn red like blood.

Watching his house explode into dust was surreal; even more so was the silence that followed rising up from the rubble like a specter. He could not hear the screams of anyone else, only the blood pounding in his ears and the rush of breath as it left lungs and did not return. Someone held him back, and then another and another until J'onn was forced onto the ground under the combined weight of four other men. He was vaguely aware of screaming, and then he realized it was his own voice.

Up until that point, he hadn't imagined how easy it would be to destroy an entire world, and yet the Imperium had done it in less than a few hours. Those who survived the initial attack banded together into a resistance, and J'onn pushed away all thoughts of his old life. Right now, he was J'onn J'onnz, a captain of a squad, and his goal was to obliterate the enemy. It was a twisted form of justice, and when he at last stood among the vanquished aliens with the dead bodies of his brothers and sisters at his feet, J'onn felt every bit of grief he had kept suppressed for so long.

Watching the stars helped in some small way; he was not at home anymore and he would never have T'resa beside him remarking on some star's shape or color. He would never hold H'nah again while they gazed at the heavens. But when he looked at the twinkling stars above, he could sometimes imagine the worlds were still alright.

He was fairly certain no one knew of his nightly escapades up onto this platform in the Watchtower, even if someone already knows of the dark thoughts consuming his sleep. Once he has woken in the night, panting with the names of his wife and daughter dying on his lips, only to hear soft footfalls receding from his door. He doesn't ask the following day who was passing by, and no one gives up the information.

Maybe he should be grateful someone knows of his constant struggle against darker thoughts, but he can't help feeling angry. Those thoughts, those memories, are sacred, dark as they are. The hours of the night are his alone to reflect on his past and his future, and the people he is working to protect so hard with this twisted sense of justice his friends hold onto. It is one of those nights he hears the familiar footfalls behind him, and he knows it is the same person who has stood by his door on countless occasions. He does not turn from his position or move his gaze away from the heavenly lights above, but a quick reach into the mind of his company confirms their identity.

"J'onn, you know it's late." Batman's gravelly voice breaks the silence after they've stood together for some time.

He responds with a dry laugh. "There is no concept of time here," he says, tearing his gaze away to look the man in the eye.

"Well, all of our clocks here are set to Earth time, so in theory, it is late." Batman folds his arms over his chest, giving J'onn one of his better withering looks. "I have the graveyard shift; you should get some rest."

"I cannot sleep tonight," he says simply. He looks away from the other man, willing him to go away, to be busy elsewhere. But J'onn also knows when the Bat is determined, there is no stopping him from getting what he wants. There is silence behind him, and he can feel the Bat's eyes boring into the back of his skull. Looking over his shoulder at the Dark Knight, J'onn glares. "What?"

"It never does get any easier," Batman says.

J'onn does not turn, but he stiffens. He knows the Bat has no incredible powers, but he cannot help strengthening his mental shields a little. "I do not know what you mean."

"I can hear you at night. I know you dream of them." Batman walks into his view, safely out of reach, but it won't make a difference if J'onn acts. "It won't get any easier."

"Why do you infringe my privacy by speaking of these things?" J'onn turns to face him fully, curling his hands into fists. Batman takes a step back. "You have no right to speak their dead names, or even think of them! They are sacred to me, and I will not have a lowly human defiling them."

Batman's gaze goes from momentarily surprised to outright angry. "Is that all we are to you, J'onn, lowly humans?"

"No, I did not mean…" He turns away, shoulders slumped. "Forgive me. I spoke out of turn and without thought."

A hand on his shoulder causes him to look Batman in the face again and the Bat smiles sadly. "You've a right to grieve for them, J'onn. Just, let us know when something is bothering you. We may be Earth's heroes, but we're friends first."

There are no words to thank him, so J'onn settles for a nod. He can't even begin to describe the pain he feels day after day, the hours of thought trying to figure out what he is and what his role is to the others.

"I dream too," the Bat continues, coming to stand at the railing next to him. "My parents were killed in front of me when I was young. I still think about them."

"Does it…get any easier?" J'onn asks slowly, the faces of his wife and daughter coming to mind.

"No." Silence stretches, and then the Bat smiles at him. The gesture is still weary and sad, but the sight of it lifts J'onn's spirits a fraction. "But it helps to talk about it with someone who understands."

Maybe their sense of justice was messed up, J'onn mused as he and Batman stood quietly looking toward the heavens, but it was nice knowing he had someone to talk to when the dreams were too much and the night was closing in, suffocating him with its velvety blackness. He won't ever truly fit in with the others in the League, but at this moment staring at the stars with a friend, he doesn't have to try so hard.


End file.
